word processing [wurd-praw-sess-ing]
noun
1. Writing, editing, and production of documents, as letters, reports, and books, through the use of a computer program or a complete computer system designed to facilitate rapid and efficient manipulation of text.
EX. We live in a world with word processing. I don't think that is always appreciated by the people of our age-- we live with an extremely accessible, if not universally accessible, technology that allows someone to type up anything they want, editing it during and after typing, with the ability to auto-edit with another program that checks your spelling and grammar (to a certain extent). You can even get a program to copy down your dictations into a file for you, rather than typing yourself. In fact, it is probably only a matter of time until we have a program that can access the value of your writing and then begins to synthesize works of literature that leave us in the dust.
To think that less than a hundred years ago, people HAD to use typewriters or handwriting to write a letter, essay, or even a whole book before it could be put to print. Now, you can type it yourself, print it yourself (in small quantities), and share it with people all over the world.
Then again, just because everyone can type out a screenplay or novel in a day doesn't mean the work is ready to print. Perhaps hesitation based on reasonable assessment of one's own work versus what is in print is a good thing to keep you from humiliating yourself by trying to get your first draft published. Then again, they print some pretty terrible books these days. Modern life is complex and strange and wonderful and awful. I need a nap.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Sunday, July 1, 2012
SCI-FI FANTASY SUNDAY! SILVERFISH PROLOGUE PT. 1
SCI-FI FANTASY SUNDAY
About three weeks ago, my good friend Kyle finally unleashed his DM skills upon our gaming group and the results have, thus far, been extremely satisfying. Its our first Pathfinder game and, for those of you out of the know, Pathfinder is basically Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 + several corrections to rules, balancing of classes, and simplification of material. Basically, think of it as D & D 3.75. And, in our campaign, I am playing a D & D character that indulges several character fantasies of mine and I would like to share a little prologue about his exploits before we get into the cool storyline of our game sessions and the characters within.
Before I get into it, I want to assure I will be continuing The Action Society, Bastards & Buggers, YŌKAI soon. If you have a preference over which one you would rather see continued first, please leave a comment or send me a message about it.
You can see the last chapter in both below.
And here are some links other relevant articles.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
WORD OF THE DAY! 6/27/12.
whimsy [hwim-zee]
noun
1. Capricious humor or disposition; extravagant, fanciful, or excessively playful expression.
2. An odd or fanciful notion.
3. Anything odd or fanciful; a product of playful or capricious fancy.
EX. As I talk about whimsy, you can check out this awesome Adventure Time x Miyazaki cross-over artwork from the link below. Make sure to check out his page if you like the art.
Every writer has things that make them tick and tock in a certain way; some of us are ticking away like a digital clock with computed precision and diligence, some of us write in small bursts like a stop watch, and then some of us are more like a cuckoo clock. I learned something a few years ago. I'm not exactly sure about the exact moment an adult writer realizes this about himself or whether he should accept it or fight it.; I am a cuckoo-clock, a whimsical writer.
I'm a young writer, but I think I might have some insights (regardless of how short-sighted they might be). First of all, to know a writer you must know two things: their influences and their motivations (often the same thing, but there ya go). My influences? The things that really matter to me? Aesthetically pleasing cartoons with good morals or good wit, video games (but especially Nintendo video games like Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past), tongue-in-cheek fantasy films like Flash Gordon, Labyritnth, Princess Bride, and Hook, beautiful and brilliant anime, especially that of Miyazaki, and, as for the writers who have influenced me most; Dr. Seuss who taught me how to be subtle in a silly world, Tolkein who taught me the simple pleasure of world-building, and Terry Pratchett.
Terry Pratchett taught me the value of creating a world of characters with their own stories to tell, the value of cleverly sprinkled satire, and how, under all the whipped cream of fantasy and humor, you can still create something that tells a universal truth. Terry Pratchett taught me that under all the whimsy, the fairy tales, and the wishes-upon-a-star, you can still have something sincere, serious, and another word starting with an 's'.
So, my influences have led me to use a mix of humor and drama to create interesting stories. So far, I hate to say or maybe I love it too, my best stories I've told have been done through the power of Dungeons and Dragons. Something about the spontaneity and the performance forced me to create world that were a tad goofy, plots a tad ridiculous, and yet, just right.
As for my motivations, I am still not 100% sure, but here is a short list.
1. Egotism- You can argue that this is a bad one to have, but I am pretty sure most writers are megalomaniacs.
2. Fantasy- I think a lot of writers write to put themselves, others, or fictional people in scenarios for their own amusement.
3. Enlightenment- Maybe I am trying to find some sort of truth?
And really, that's all I got for you guys. A little self-analysis to begin my Wednesday, followed by me playing some Zelda, going for a swim, and doing house chores. Maybe I'll make some magic cards or hang out with a friend later. Really, I should read a good book. But then again, as a cuckoo-clock, I am predictable, but always surprising.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
SCI-FI FANTASY SATURDAY! YŌKAI EP. 3
SCI-FI FANTASY SATURDAY!
I will be posting a first draft of, hopefully, two chapters a week, and I will probably resume The Action Society posts next month. Enjoy and PLEASE comment.
YŌKAI
EPISODE
3: UNCLE
Hideki laughed
heartily, “Now tell me that ain’t some of the best booze you’ve ever had,
Takezou-san!”
“I
am not sure I want to taste it,” Takezou sniffed bowl of brown frothy liquid
with a grimace, “It smells like piss.”
“Oh
come on, Takezou!” Hideki chirped before draining another bowl.
Takezou,
Hideki and Hachiyama sat cross-legged, around a short round table, in the Red
Octopus’s restaurant. The table was littered with stacks of bowls, plates and
cups, mostly the result of Hachiyama and Hideki gorging themselves, on the coin
of the latter, with another seemingly endless feast of bad food and good drink.
Takezou had the pleasure of watching his two companions repeat the ritual
several times over the week that he had spent in town. The first couple of
times he had joined them in the revelry, listening as they told stories about
their youth; from stealing food off the plates of samurai to tricking other
shysters out of their ill-gotten money. He was not surprised to discover they
were both street urchins from a town near the Eight Mountains. He had even been
grateful for Hideki’s gracious generosity; the “Lucky Rabbit” going so far as
to provide them with a new fitting of clothes, a warm room at the inn, and even
taking them to a weapon smith to have their weapons repaired and getting a
custom fit of light, but effective armor for him to wear next to they ran into
trouble. Yet, a week of drinking, eating and playing games had started to wear
on his patience.
“What
is this foreign stuff called again, Hideki-kun?” Hachiyama asked as he slurped
down his bowl with expert gluttony.
“Beer,
all the way from beyond the Red Sea,” Hideki explained, “The drink of gaijin kings!”
“Foreigners drink this
stuff?” Hideki leered at the yellow-brown liquid.
“Mhm,”
Hideki rubbed his belly, “You can’t trust your eyes and nose with this stuff,
Takezou-san. Ya gotta trust your stomach. A stomach filled with beer leaves you
warm and happy.”
Takezou
took a sip of the drink and swallowed with a grimace. He set the bowl down and
took a swig from his wineskin of water, to rinse out his mouth, before spitting
down into an empty bowl with a clearing of his throat. He looked up from the
bowl to Hideki, “We need to find out something about that Sato Takeshi.”
“Sato
Takeshi?” Hideki looked confused.
“The
Rider in Black, Hideki-kun,” Hachiyama answered, as he set down an emptied
bowl.
“Right,
right, right,” Hideki mocked them, “Why do you need to find out about this
Rider in Black guy? He’s not your problem, right? You gave his boys a licking.
They won’t bother that village again for at least a season.”
“And
if he does bother them again, big deal!” He slammed down his empty bowl with a
sigh, “Rural folk like that are what’s wrong with the Empire; too coward and
weak. They’re all depended on local samurai for help. It’s against nature. You
gotta either learn how to fight or learn how to flee. Living like they do, like
shepherd-less sheep being harassed by wolves, that ain’t the way to live;
better to be free or dead than live like that!”
Hachiyama
frowned at Hideki’s rant, “Little brother, there is a third option, right? You
can get someone else to fight for you?”
“Bah!”
Hideki clasped his right bicep with his left hand and made a fist, “People that
beg real men for help like that’re parasites.”
“And
I suppose being a cheating rat is so much better?” Hachiyama grumbled at the
red-headed drunk, “Using sorcery isn’t luck.”
“Don’t
call me that!” Hideki hissed, cheeks red and hair on end, “You know I hate
being call that.”
“And
calm down, alright,” Hideki poured Hachiyama another bowl of beer, “Drink up,
buddy.” As Hachiyama accepted another drink from their host, Takezou found his
patience was on the razor’s edge; sitting around like this was not getting him
anywhere. He reached over the table, grabbed Hideki by his collar, and pulled
him across the little table so they were face to face.
“Regardless
of what you think we gave the villagers are word,” Takezou glared right into
those shiny gold eyes, each pupil like a fat droplet of lamp oil, “Isn’t that
right, Hachiyama?”
“We
gave them our word, Hideki-kun,” Hachiyama sighed, “Rule six of the Code. Keep
all your promises and-“
“Break
no oaths,” Hideki sighed, as if he had heard that rule more than he cared to
hear it,
“Alright, alright. Look, if you would let go of me and compose
yourself, I can help you out. Okay, Takezou-san?”
Takezou
released Hideki, who sat back, closed his eyes, and pulled his smoking pipe
from where it was hooked over one of his rather prodigious ears. He snapped his
fingers and the pipe lit. He took a long draught of the pungent smoke before
peeking out from under his thick red eyebrows, “Now, you need information,
right?”
“Yes
for the fiftieth time, yes,” Takezou exclaimed.
“Well,
you need to find yourself the yakuza,”
Hideki explained, “Though that can be tricky. These guys don’t like to be
looked for, especially by outsiders. That and I ain’t exactly on friendly terms
with them.”
“As
they say about high-rollers; they end up rolled up in a quilt at the bottom of
the river,” Hideki tapped the side of his nose before continuing, “But I can
tell ya what to look for. Just don’t tell them I sent ya.”
“The best gang for
information is probably gonna be the gang that operates under the Red Dogs.” He
explained, “The Red Dogs are easy enough to find. You just look out for a bunch
of guys, loud and swaggering, dressed in all red, and probably got their hair
shaved into stupid looking mohawks.”
“Like
those guys, Hideki-kun? Hideki-kun?” When Hachiyama and Takezou looked back
from the crowd of swaggering guys in red, Hideki was gone, and all that was
left was a pile of his clothes. Takezou frowned and was about to inquire what
kind of sorcery was that when Hachiyama stood up and shouted, “Excuse me.”
The
four yakuza turned and stared at them for a moment. They were all fairly
greasy, with their hair shaved on the sides leaving a strip down the middle,
and each wearing red prominently in their clothes. They all had several scars
on their faces, the youngest one of them looked as if he had just gotten in a
fight with a fat knot on the side of his head, and the oldest looking fellow of
the bunch had red tattoos covering his forearms. The oldest one even had the
gall to carry a sword. Takezou looked up from the sword and into the eyes of
the oldest, standing up, placing his hand nonchalantly on the handle of his own
blade. The older yakuza seemed to recognize Takezou and spoke up, “What do you
want?”
“Information,”
Hachiyama said with a rather cold tone, “We need information.”
The
yakuza seemed to choose to ignore the giant, probably for fear of showing some
sign of being intimidated, so their leader instead continued to speak directly
to Takezou.
“You’re
the Black Sun swordsman, right?” He asked, “The one who cut down the Lord’s
son?”
Takezou’s
looked the man in the eyes and nodded, “Yes.”
The
three subordinates of the elder yakuza seemed to take a fuller notice and
respect for Takezou. The older yakuza smiled, “Pretty impressive. That kid was
a loud mouth. Good riddance,” He spat on the floor, and then gave a little nod
before introducing himself, “The name’s Red Gacha of the Red Dogs.”
Takezou
seemed a little off-put by the other’s casual approval of the Lord’s son but
decided to ignore it, “Nice to make your acquaintance, Gacha-san.”
“Just
call me Gacha,” He chuckled, “I don’t deserve none of that san-sama crap. Now,
how can we be of assistance, Mister Black Sun?”
Takezou
frowned before he explained, “As my companion, Hachiyama was saying, we need
information.”
“Oh
yeah? What kind of information? A pretty girl’s home address or the lineage of
some servant or something?” Gacha chuckled, “We got plenty of information like
that lying around but then again you could figure that out from looking at the
town register. What the hell kind of information would you need from us
low-lifes?”
“Information
about a low-life, Gacha-san,” Takezou stressed the last syllable to irritate
Gacha’s ear, “Information about a man by the name of Sato Takeshi. A bandit
camped out somewhere near the village of Asa-mura; about a week south of here.”
Gacha
whispered over his shoulder to his companions before looking back at Takezou
with a hungry smile, a single gold tooth gleaning from between his thin lips,
“I can say we’ve heard of the guy. Heck, and he ain’t no friend of ours, so it
is possible we’d be willing to barter his story, for a price.”
“How
much?” Takezou asked, without hesitation.
“Whoa!
Slow down A little hasty there, hm?” Gacha grinned, “What he do to get under
your skin? Kill your family? Steal your girl?”
“He
insulted my honor and he owes me his life,” Takezou answered matter-o-factly.
“So,
you two boys are engaged in the romance of the blades?” Gacha chuckled, “Can’t
blame ya. Real nasty piece of work, this guy is, I’d want his head on my mantle
if he crossed me.”
“Now,
about payment,” Gacha rubbed the knuckle of his left hand, where his pinky
finger was notably absent, “It’s question of how much but what. We ain’t so
much in the need of money as we are in the need of muscle.”
“We
are not thugs.” Hachiyama interjected.
“And
we ain’t about charity,” Gacha replied, looked up at Hacihyama, and then back
down at Takezou, “So, how about it Mr. Black Sun? You and your buddy want this
information, right? You scratch the Red Dog’s back and he barks.”
“What
would you need us to do?” Takezou asked, relaxing his posture, and sitting back
down.
Gacha
chuckled, and sat down at an empty, his men standing around the table, posing
in a way that they seemed to believe was impressive, as their boss explained,
“We got a problem in the Entertainment District. Ya see there have always been
two gangs in the District; us Red Dogs and the Blue Roosters.” He picked at his
nose with his ring finger before wiping it on his sleeve.
“Then,
about a year ago, the Yoshida goons show up and claim to be security. Our gangs
can’t even go to war without the Yoshida goons getting involved and arresting
half our boys. It’s a shame. They’ve taken half the fun out of being yakuza. We
used to rumble with the Roosters at least every other week, if it wasn’t
raining,” Gacha sighed nostalgically.
“But
that ain’t all. These Yoshida guys say that they’re guards but they’re worse
than the crooks they claim to be fightin’, see? They’ve taken control over half
the businesses and are buying us out. Heck, the only reason we still got the
Red Octopus is because Old Ma who owns the joint was the Chief’s second wife,
see?” Gacha took a sip from an unfinished glass left of the table before he
said, “We need you to put the fear in them. You’ve got clout and a name. We
just need ya to rough up some of their boys and let them know it’s on the, “He
paused, “What’s the word Chief said last night, Curly?”
The
young gang member spoke up, “Behest?”
“That’s
it! You just gotta let them Yoshida goons know you’re working on the behest of
the Red Dogs and for them to stay out of our turf. Ya think ya can handle
that?”
Takezou
sighed, “I suppose, but understand that this is just to get the information. We
are not muscle for hire.”
“Of
course, of course,” Gacha brushed off the allegation.
“And,”
Hachiyama seemed to step out of the periphery with surprising stealth for such a
big man, “if we get double crossed or if the information is no good, your boss
better have a hundred guys like you ready to back him up.” The giant made sure
to lift his hands and crack his fat knuckles, making a sound like the crushing
of iron.
“Alright,
alright, yeesh.” Gacha shook his head, “We get the picture. You’ll see. The
information is good.”
The
Red Dogs then took their leave. Hachiyama sat back down for a moment and
emptied Hideki’s bottle of beer. He took a long sigh and rubbed his belly, as
Takezou looked over at his companion, “You don’t think you went a little
overboard with your threats? Maybe you’ve had enough to drink.”
Hachiyama
exhaled, looking down at Takezou, his face a little ruddy, “Maybe, maybe.”
Takezou
looked over at the pile of clothes that Hideki had left sitting in the chair
next to Hachiyama, “Where you reckon the Lucky Rabbit got off to?”
They
heard a muffled sound from under the table, “Clothes, please?”
Hachiyama
reached down and slid the clothes down to a hand reaching out from under the
edge of the table. After a moment, Hideki climbed up with a sigh, “You didn’t
have to drink the rest of the beer, brother.”
“Sorry,
Hideki-kun,” Hachiyama shrugged.
“Where
did you just go?” Takezou asked, glaring at Hideki suspiciously, “And why did
you leave your clothes?”
“Ah,
right,” Hideki laughed, nervously, “Hachiyama didn’t tell ya about me being a
magician, then? I’m a master of parlor tricks and a part-time sorcerer.” He
explained, with a playful grin, as he told Takezou, “I saw those Red Dogs
walking over and, considering they don’t like my face, I decided to become
invisible and take my leave.”
“Why
did you leave your clothes behind, then?” Takezou inquired.
Hideki
chuckled, “Oh that?” He set his pipe back over the crook of his ear, “My
Invisibility trick ain’t exactly perfect. I can make myself invisible but not
my clothes. I wish I could show you some other time but,” He stood up, “It
sounds like you boys have a date with some Yoshida goons.”
“Oh
come on, Hideki-kun!” Hachiyama stood up, “You should help us out. You know
this city better than either of us.”
Takezou
stood up as well, glaring suspiciously at Hideki, “And I bet some of your
tricks could come in real handy.”
“Fellas,
please,” Hideki shook his head, “I’m clearly a lover, not a fighter. You two
should go ahead and make your way over to the docks. Yoshida has a bunch of
warehouses there, so all you gotta do is pick one and put the scare into them.
Should be easy, right? Then, you just come back here and you can make your way
back to Ata-mura with a cart full of rice.”
“Asa-mura,”
Takezou corrected.
Hideki
bowed, apologetically, “Right. Now, I’ll tell ya what,” He backed up toward the
door, “How about I go take my rich self and buy you guys a cart full of rice,
my treat. I’ll even pay for the ox. The cart’ll be waiting here when ya get
back.”
“Oh,
thank you, Hideki-kun,” Hachiyama grinned, “You’ve been so generous.”
“Don’t
mention it! That’s what friends are for! See you later.” And Hideki slipped out
of the door and out of ear shot. Takezou sighed, lead Hachiyama out, and toward
the exit of the Red Octopus. As they left the inn, Takezou gave his grinning
companion a couple of curious glances before, finally, asking him the question
tearing at his insides.
“Hachiyama-san,
why do you make that face?” Takezou asked.
Hachiyama
stopped and looked down at Takezou, “What face?”
“That
face!”Takezou groaned, “That dense, clueless, childish face. That big overly
satisfied and stupid grin.”
“Oh,”
Hachiyama just smiled wider, “This face?”
“Yes,
that face.” Takezou rubbed his chin, “You make it all the time.”
“Well,
I suppose I’ve used it as long as I can remember,” Hachiyama replied with a
shrug, “Do you really think it looks stupid?”
“Are
you serious?” Takezou allowed himself a little laugh, “You look like you are constantly
in a dream-like state. Like one of those sweeping monks you see walking around
with a broom all the time.”
Hachiyama
just chuckled softly in his chest and sighed, “Hm, maybe you’ve got me there,”
Hachiyama flashed him a devious smirk, and repeated, “Maybe you’ve got me
there.”
Takezou
paused as he witnessed another one of those worrying moments he had experienced
with Hachiyama. That was a threatening smirk. It was a smirk that told the
swordsman that he shouldn’t concern himself with Hachiyama’s stupid smile. He
had experienced several moments like this since he started traveling with the
giant— moments where a dangerous fury, like the manic fury he exhibited in
battle, emerged but most of the time Hachiyama’s presence was more reassuring and
friendly than most people he had ever met. It was more than a little puzzling. A
scream broke his thoughts and he looked up from the ground.
Hachiyama
had guided their path down a back ally and he had stopped to watch a scene
unfold. Two men were dragging a girl out of an old shop. The men were dressed
in the same armor they had seen on the bushi at the gate. They were Yoshida
men. The girl was struggling as she was dragged barefoot into the alley and
screaming for help. Before Takezou could react, Hachiyama was already in the
path of the two men, and looming over them.
“What
the hell do you want, pal?” One of the club-wielding thugs asked Hachiyama, “Can’t
you see were in the middle of something here??”
“What
did the girl do?” Hachiyama asked, blocking their path with his expansive
frame, and stopping them in their tracks. The girl struggled, as one of the thugstried
to gag her, and the other kept his attention on their human obstacle.
“It
isn’t your business, fatso.” The guard sneered.
Hachiyama
placed his right foot back and reached for his club, but before he could swing
his tetsubo or the thugs noticed Hachiyama’s
hand on the grip, Takezou had stepped between the guard and his companion.
Takezou patted Hachiyama’s arm to make him lower his weapon before he did
something they might regret.
“Perhaps,
it is our business?” Takezou commented and the thug seemed to recognize him.
“Wait!
Aren’t you that Black Sun swordsmen?” The Yoshida thug asked with a tone of
fear in his throat.
“Yes,
the very same swordsmen.” He introduced himself with a small bow before
entreating the thug, “Now, my companion, had a question about what business you
had with this girl?”
“I,
well,” The guard stammered before getting a grip on himself, “This girl owes a
debt to Lord Yoshida and we’re here to make sure she pays it.”
“Lord
Yoshida?” Takezou raised a brow, surprised by that level of reverence they used
to when mentioning their boss before asking, “And how does Lord Yoshida plan to
have this debt paid?”
“Look
at her,” the other guard pushed the girl forward so Takezou could get a better
look at her, “She’s a doll. We’re gonna put her to work in the brothel. A
pretty, young whore like this will make us a fortune back in a year. I can’t
wait to get a p-”
“No.”
Hachiyama interrupted the thug.
“What
business of this is yours?” The other thug demanded.
“She
is my niece,” Hachiyama said as matter of factly as if he had just stated that
the sky is above them.
The
two thugs and Takezou looked up at the giant as he made the ridiculous claim.
One the guards laughed nervously, “I don’t really see the resemblance?”
“Release
the girl,” Hachiyama demanded.
“Or
what?” The Yoshida thug sneered.
Takezou
let out a wince as he saw the thug fold in on himself like an accordion as he
was crushed by the devastating blow of Hachiyama’s tetsubo. He quickly rolled out of the way, as the other thug let
out a horrified scream, and scrambled back from his dead companion. Takezou
grabbed the girl and spun her out of the way into the shop she had been dragged
out of before Hachiyama turned his weapon raised to the other thug.
The
Yoshida thug screamed for help and begged for mercy. As his companions began
pouring into the alley, it was too late for him. Hachiyama had already swatted
him aside like an insect with his studded tetsubo
club. The other guards stood for a moment in horror as they looked at the devastated
bodies of their two comrades. As Hachiyama turned his drunken and furious gaze
toward the thugs entering the alley, they let out a battle cry, and charged him
with their spears.
Hachiyama
must have taken a half-dozen spears to his torso, arms and legs as they stuck
him with their weapons. Hachiyama staggered a few of them with a blow from his
weapon to the side of their ranks, but he was desperately wounded. As Hachiyama
stumbled and nearly fell to one knee, Takezou was upon the remaining thugs with
a fury of blows that fell silently on their stunned targets.
Takezou
stood over the last living guard, sword to his throat, and spoke softly, “Tell Lord Yoshida that the girl is with The
Black Sun swordsman and that he should keep his hands out of the Entertainment
District. Understand?”
The
thug nodded, trembling in mortal fear, as he was allowed to scramble to his
feet and escape the bloody scene of the alley. Takezou slid his sword back into
its sheath and turned to look at Hachiyama. The giant was breathing heavily,
leaning against the wall of the shop, as the girl watched them from the doorway
of her shop cautiously. Takezou moved to pull one of the spears from Hachiyama’s
leg, but the pain and loss of blood was too much. He watched Hachiyama collapse
to the ground and shouted to the girl, “Quick! Help me move him before those
guards return!”
Takezou
wasn’t sure how he and the girl moved Hachiyama, but they managed to drag him
down a couple of alleys and into the front door of some old woman’s hut. The
girl explained the woman was a doctor and would be able to help. As Takezou
stood there, panting and sweating from the physical effort of moving his
companion, he began to feel his sweat soak into his clothes— except it was more
than sweat. He looked down and saw a red stain slowly forming on his kimono around a puncture wound to his
ribs.
He
stumbled into Hachiyama’s body and collapsed to the floor. Everything went
black.
*
LATER THIS WEEK, THE SWORDSMAN'S APPRENTICE
Saturday, November 19, 2011
SCI-FI FANTASY SATURDAY! YŌKAI EP. 2
After speaking with my friend Zach,
he convinced me to take my recent and ponderous interest with my newest
character in his newest Advanced D & D campaign.
I will be posting a first draft of, hopefully, two chapters a week, and I will probably resume The Action Society posts next month. Enjoy and PLEASE comment.
I will be posting a first draft of, hopefully, two chapters a week, and I will probably resume The Action Society posts next month. Enjoy and PLEASE comment.
YŌKAI
EPISODE
2: GAMBLING
It took
Hachiyama and Takezou a week to reach the hills outside of Tosachi city. The
roads and fields were still flooded out. Take care to find a safe route where
the horses would not sink and the ground would not give way under hoof was
difficult but Takezou managed to find a safe route for them to take. By the
time their horses crested the hill, the two were weary from travel, and happy
to see their destination in sight. The hill was just high enough that they
could see the entire city.
They
could the Western Gate of the city; a seven foot wall painted white and gold
wrapped itself from gate to gate. The city itself was shrouded in a sea of
dreary mist, slowly giving way to the smoke of a hundred thousand breakfasts
being cooked and the flickering of hundred thousand lanterns waiting to be put
out as the celestial sphere of the sun rose from beyond the horizon and its
rays began to bring the city to life. The whole city sloping down to a bay
filled with ships from far and wide, guarded by a small navy, providing
lifeblood to the capital city of Toza and, therefore, the whole region.
“Hideki
likes boats.” Hachiyama mentioned, breaking their silence, as the two men took
in the immensity of one of the cornerstones of the Mugen Empire.
“I
see,” Takezou gently tapped his heels against the ribs of the black warhorse
beneath him, and took the lead, as the two made their way down the hill, “He is
a merchant, yes?”
“Well,”
Hachiyama paused, “He is very good at making money.”
“He
isn’t yakuza, right?”
“Oh
no,” Hachiyama paused again, “At least Hideki did not mention anything about
yakuza in his letter. He just said he was making good money and that he wanted
to visit him.”
Takezou
sighed, “I don’t think I would even care if he was yakuza. Just as long I can
get a hot bath.”
“We
can go get a bath first,” Hachiyama replied, “I will pay.”
“Are
you sure, Hachiyama? You do have a tendency to be a little too generous with
what little coin you had. When I first saw you, you were on the side of the
road, chewing on grass because you gave your last E’in to a wandering monk to
pay for him to buy a new rain hat.”
“He
was bald.”
“Still,
you should not let people take advantage of your generous heart. Some people
may view it as a weakness,” Takezou said, “You sure you can afford to pay for
two baths?”
“Hideki
owes me money,” Hachiyama explained, “We will find him after the bath.”
Takezou
just nodded as they approached the Western Gate. On either side of the gate was
a man wearing black armor with “Yoshida” painted in yellow on their chests and
wielding large spears. The men were bushi,
hired warriors, and when they saw the odd couple riding up to the gate, the man
on the left side stood in their path, “Halt and state your business.”
Takezou
stopped and hopped down from his horse, Hachiyama doing the same (much to his
horse’s relief). Takezou held the reins of his horse as he asked, “You’re not
city guard or Imperial Troopers? What business do you have asking our
business?”
The
man glared at Takezou, screwing up his eyes, and his mustache twitched as he
spoke, “We are hired men of the Yoshida Conglomerate. The city has us on lone
while its guard deal with rebellions in the South.” He pointed to a scroll
pinned to the wall behind him, “That is signed by Lord Tenkinaka and that says
your business is my business.” He moved his spear into the face of Takezou. The
guard looked horrified as he was pulled by the spear to face Hachiyama, whose
fist had clamped down on the middle of the spear.
“Do not threaten my
friend, please,” Hachiyama said, firmly.
“Hachiyama,
please release his spear,” Takezou entreated him. “We have nothing to hide from
this man. He is just trying to do his job.” Hachiyama released the spear as
Takezou continued, “Please inform the guard of what our plans are, now that we
have made it to Tozachi.”
Hachiyama
ducked his head a little, “We are here to visit my cousin, Hideki Kahoumono.”
The
guard looked at the enormous man and took a step back, “Then, just be aware
that the city is patrolled at all times by our men. If you cause any trouble,
we will have no qualms with doing our jobs.”
“Surely
there will be no qualms to be had. Let’s go Hachiyama.” Takezou said, and the
two led their horses into the gates of Tozachi.
First,
they visited the local stables and traded in the horses for enough coin to buy
a week of mixed rice for Asa-Mura village and then they became determined to
find a cheap inn and a decent hot bath for themselves. Hachiyama stopped near
the stables and handed him a blind man a coil into his little bowl. Hachiyama
spoke softly, “Sir, which way is the Entertainment District?”
The
old man looked left to write, with the gaze of a man who once saw more than
most, and asked, “We are in front of the stables, correct?”
Hachiyama
nodded, then sighed in embarrassment, and replied, “Yes sir?”
“Go
a few blocks down this road until you find the Bridge District. Follow the line
of black bridges and you will find what you’re looking for soon enough.”
Hachiyama
gave a short bow, “Thank you sir,” and they were off, with Hachiyama leading
the way, the crowd splitting like river water hitting a rock as they tried to
avoid his walking radius. Takezou stayed close behind, his hand on the pummel
end of his sword handle as they found their way to the bridges district. It was
wear all the paths of the city seemed to meet, stretching over the Toza River
as it made its way from the mountains of the South to the sea, and the bridges
were a sea of colors. As they walked along the black group of bridges, Takezou
couldn’t help but count how many colors there were but found he could not see
far enough to count them all. It was a rather pleasant walk. Yet, just as they
cross a small group of buildings in the middle of the district where food and
drink were being sold, they were stopped in their tracks.
Standing
in the middle of the walkway that led to the next black bridge, were about a
dozen men, all standing on either side or behind a slender man with dark eyes
filled with contempt for what they were looking at. The subject of this
contempt was Takezou, a fact made very clear by the owner of the hate-filled
eyes, as he barked at Takezou, “You!” The slender man with a chonmage hair style, shaved on top with
a top knot in the back, marched forward so he was only a hand’s width away from
Takezou, who quickly put his hand on the hilt of his blade, as the man
continued, “Are you Takezou of the Black Sun?”
Takezou
met the eyes of the slender man, “I am he. And you are?”
By
this moment, Hachiyama was standing beside Takezou, keeping an eye on the
companions of the slender man as they came up behind him. The slender man’s
companions were chattering about “the Black Sun.” A small crowd was gathering
in front of the nearby shops, as the man introduced himself, “I am Kenji Hanagawa,
samurai of the Toza Han, and Initiate
of The Dance of Winds.”
Takezou
looked Kenji up and down, his eyes carefully studying the other’s sheathed
blades, one on each hip, noting the way the green scabbards curved off into a
crescent shape. Takezou looked up at Kenji, “That is a fine title and a fine
blade.”
Kenji
ignored the compliment, just glaring down at Takezou, “Is it true that you have
mastered the first three rises of the Black Sun?”
Takezou
nodded, “And the fourth rise, as well.” This caused a small eruption from the
crowd behind Kenji; one companion looked furious and shouted,
“Such impudence from a
Northern dog. It is one thing for him to wield a blade with such a common hand,
it is another to claim to be the inheritor of that false style, and do so while
wielding a ninjata!” The companion was red face, with a small mustache, and the
fat face of a nobleman’s brat.
“Quiet, Taro.” Kenji
corrected his friend with a glance, “Takezou of the Black Sun School, let us
prove your mettle in single combat. I am curious myself as how one uses such a
small blade and none of us have ever witnessed the swordplay of a Black Sun’s
rise. Do you accept my challenge?”
Takezou searched Kenji’s
face for a moment, as Hachiyama leaned down and whispered, “Are you sure that
you want to do this, Takezou-san?” Takezou nodded at his friend’s question,
Hachiyama taking a few steps back, as did everyone else, giving a wide circle
around the two swordsman.
“Under one condition,”
Takezou rolled his neck around, taking steps back so they were five paces
apart, “We fight until one of us falls to severe injury, unconsciousness or one
of us surrenders. Then we both leave, alive.”
“Of course,” Kenji
slipped the top of his kimono down so that his upper body was exposed,
stretching his arms and showing the scars and nicks of a man who had survived
many duels and, from what could be seen, no injuries so severe as to force a
surrender, “This is a battle for honor and face. I am here to prove my blade
against a school that many say is dead or never was.” Kenji glanced back at his
gang, “No interference. This battle will be over quickly.”
Takezou took a deep
breath, “Who will give us a count?”
Hachiyama cleared his throat
and his soft voice somehow filled the area in the middle of the crowd, “I will
give the count.”
Kenji and Takezou
locked eyes, as Hachiyama shouted, “Three. Two. One. IKE!”
Takezou’s sword was
drawn first, Kenji only dodging the blow to his right side by leaping to his
left and rolling. He caught himself before he fell back into the crowd and
pulled his swords from their scabbards. In that moment, Kenji had lost sight of
Takezou, only able to block another blow by swinging his curved blades out, knocking
Takezou to the ground.
Kenji came down in a
flurry of blows, his curved swords coming down with vicious force, as all
Takezou could do was block and dodge, sliding along the ground, trying to get
to a point where he could stand. He got his opportunity by rolling to the side
and quickly standing up, in a defensive position, just in time for Kenji to
turn and unleash another whirlwind of blows.
The crowd cheered as
Kenji forced Takezou on the defense. In a moment, Kenji’s form faltered and
Takezou swung his sword in a flash upward and knocked Kenji’s blades aside,
then swing his sword’s scabbard as a club, hit Kenji across the ribs knocking
him back. Kenji stumbled backward, trying to regain his balance, as Takezou
came in with another upper cut, this time from the ninjata, cutting a slit in
right sleeve, blood dripping down his arm.
Kenji growled, “Damn
you!” He held the hilts of his blades close to each other and swung them in
large arcs. The force of both blades knocked Takezou back and forced him to dodge
the down swings of Kenji’s blade. Takezou let out a shout and from a crouching
position swung his sword up and between Kenji’s arms.
The slender swordsman
was forced to leap back, letting down his guard, the crowd falling silent as
Takezou forced him back. Kenji swung his blades wildly until with one
incredible swing from Takezou’s heel to Kenji, the slender swordsman was
disarmed and a gash appeared from his chest to his face. He let out a holler
and fell to the ground, clutching his face, and screaming in pain. The crowd
watched for a moment, surprised by the outcome, as Takezou hilted his sword.
“You said the battle
would be over, quickly,” Takezou looked down at Kenji, as the wounded samurai
was pulled to his feet, one of his friends holding a rag to his face to try and
stop the bleeding, “But the Black Sun rises slowly.”
Hachiyama clapped, and
the crowd soon joined in. Takezou turned his back on his defeated foe and began
walked toward Hacihyama, “Come on, you owe me a trip to a bathhouse.”
“TAKEZOU! LOOK OUT!”
Hachiyama shouted just as Takezou turned to see the red-faced companion of
Kenji, Taro, come down on Takezou with a long katana raised above his head.
Takezou only had enough time to swing his blade from his hilt before the other
came down on him. Taro missed, but Takezou didn’t. Takezou stood up, pulling
his sword free from Taro’s chest, the body of the youth falling silently to the
crowd. There were a couple of shrieks at the crowd from the unexpected and
quick death.
“Takezou-san! We must
leave now!” Hachiyama moved to Takezou’s side just as a group of warriors in
black armor, with the symbol for Yoshida painted on their chest plates,
surrounded them with spears in hand.
“Sheath your blade,
kensei!” One of the bushi demanded, “You are not under arrest but you’re to be
taken before Lord Tenkinaka immediately.”
“Why? This was a legal
duel and that fool attempted to strike me down. I merely defended myself.”
Takezou explained.
“This is irrelevant.
You have struck down a samurai, in the city, and not just any samurai. That
fool was Prince Taro, the eldest son of Lord Tenkinaka!” The bushi snapped
back, as two of his men moved to pick up the slain young man between them. “You
will be coming with us and the Lord will decide what to do with you.”
“No,” Hachiyama shook
his head, and put his hand on his tetsubo,
a large studded club that hand from his belt, “You will not be taking my
Takezou-san anywhere.”
The bushi quickly
turned their spears on the giant and Takezou intervened, “Wait! Hachiyama, I
will be alright. Go find your friend. I will be back soon.” The bushi and
Hachiyama lowered their stances, as Takezou surrendered himself to the leader,
and had his hands tied behind his back.
As the swordsman was
led off by the armed men, down the golden line of bridges to the Sky
District, Hachiyama watched, feeling
powerless to help his friend. He did not know what to do when he remembered
what Takezou had told him to do.
“Hideki-kun,” Hachiyama
smiled and made his way toward the black bridges, “He will know what to do
about this. He has money. Maybe he can pay for Takezou’s release.”
And he ran off.
*
Takezou was taken
directly to the Tozachi Palace and dragged through the front outer gate. He
looked around at the gorgeous courtyard, as his feet were dragged over the Fire
Blossom flowers that had fallen from the courtyard’s trees during the weeks of
rain, and he had to admire the beauty of what could be very well be his court
of final judgment. He had cut down the son of a Lord and it was within the
Lord’s power to have him executed. All he could do was hope for the best and be
confident in his composure.
He was pulled through a
second set of gates, through a smaller courtyard, and finally was taken inside
the red walls of the palace. He was allowed to stand on his own two feet,
pleased to no longer be dragged, as he was ushered across the smooth and glossy
wooden floors, lit by the hundreds of lanterns hanging from every nook and
cranny of the walls. Takezou saw them each like blinking little spirits, guiding
him to the afterlife, but he knew he would not end up as some ghost. He winced
as he was taken into a side room and forced to his knees.
The men then lay the
body of his victim in front of him. Takezou looked down and they lifeless eyes
of Taro stared up at him. He wanted to shut those accusing eyes but could do
nothing. He closed his eyes and tried to meditate, but instead of the peaceful
dark of his mind, he was greeted by a sea of unblinking, accusing blank stares.
He could feel their accusations tearing at his body, pinching and pulling at
his flesh. He heard a voice among them saying his name, when suddenly he felt
himself lurch back into reality, as a foot was place squarely in the small of
his back and he was pushed to the ground by one of the bushi.
He looked up and saw
two men sitting across from him. One was older, probably an elderly advisor,
with the eyes of a man who had overseen many worse things than the death of a
single young man. The other’s eyes were filled with fury and judgment, obviously
belonging to a soldier, and in fact, it was clear that the man on the right had
to be a head guardsman or a military advisor. Takezou was suddenly snapped back
from his observations, by a throaty sob directly in front of him.
A middle-aged man, in
the kimono of an aristocrat, was crouched over the body of Taro and touching
his face. Takezou looked down at Taro’s face and was relieved to see his eyes
had been closed by the middle-aged man. He looked up and saw a familiar red
face, though wizened with age, and reckoned this man must be the boy’s father,
Lord Tenkinaka. He watched in silence, waiting to be spoken to, and watched the
father try to pull himself together. After a moment, he stood up and then sat
between his two advisors. His eyes were without tears but his whole body was
tense, as if it would crack, and he would burst into a violent fit of emotion.
Instead, he spoke, his voice trembling, “What happened, Takezou of the Black
Sun?”
Takezou was surprised
to be addressed so formally, “I believe that your son, Taro, he saw me defeat
his friend in a duel. He took offense and attacked me without warning. I am
afraid that in his moment of reckless abandon he left himself wide open. I
defended myself and he fell on my blade. I am sorry, my Lord”
“Don’t be, “Lord
Tenkinaka said, staring at his son, “That was not the first time he did
something so stupid. He is well-known for his wild temper and lack of courtesy.
I am sorry that your name has been sullied with such a sordid deed.”
The military man
grunted, “Yes, well, regardless, what shall we do with him? This is a clear
insult to your house and we do not want to seem weak.”
The elder shook his
head, “This young swordsman defended himself and appears to be an honorable
man. We cannot punish him for defending him.”
“Nonsense, Daisuke!”
The military man growled, “He is a Northern dog! If we do not kill him the
other daimyo will think the master’s house has become weak.”
“Mamore! That is
enough!” The lord shouted at the man to his right, who quickly bowed his head,
and grunted an apology, “His fate is mine to decide.”
**
After a few minutes of
pushing his way through crowds of people, Hachiyama had made his way to the
Entertainment District. It was a couple of blocks of brightly colored buildings
stuck close together on an island surrounded by a canal. Outside of the betting
parlors, inns, kabuki theaters, and the like, were women wearing alluring and
exotic costumes to attract the discerning eyes of a man looking to spend money
on a room, a meal, or something else. Between the buildings were dozens of
stands selling fast foods, souvenirs, games of chance, fortune telling and
anything else one might find at a carnival were being served up under a cloudy
sky.
Hachiyama walked past a
pair of brothers, two little boys, one having just won a raccoon mask and the
other a bunny mask from a vender. The older boy, wearing the raccoon mask, was
leading the younger boy away from a fish game. “Hideki-kun loves fish games,”
Hachiyama smiled and walked toward the stand.
The stand was made of
bamboo and its vendor was wearing an oni
mask, a great blue demon face, so that the face of the mask was against the
left side of his face. The man had greasy black hair, blackened teeth, and
yellowed eyes. In front of him was a wooden tub filled with water and little
golden fish running about. The vendor smiled, “Aren’t you a little old to play
fish games, pal?”
Hachiyama walked up and
sat a single fat silver coin on the vendor’s money box. The vendor looked from
the coin to him, “Pal, can’t you read? The game only costs a couple I’en to
play. A Gh’ien would buy ya fifty tries and I don’t want to rip ya off that
bad.” The vendor looked the giant over, noting the intense look on his face,
but relaxed as he heard Hachiyama speak so softly.
“I don’t want any
fish,” He explained, “My hands are too big for fish games. No,” Hachiyama
looked about and then looked down at the man, “I am looking for a friend who
probably spent some money here. Probably took half your tank?”
“More like my whole
tank! Little guy, right?” The vendor spat into the tub, the little fish darting
up to peck at it, “Yeah, I think I know who you mean. Lucky Hideki, right?”
“Yes,” Hachiyama
smiled, “I need to find him.”
“He rip ya off too,
huh? He likes to hand out at the Red Octopus Onsen at the end of the street.
He’s got a reputation fer it.” The vendor spat again, “And, if ya see the
bastard make that silver ya handed me worth it, alright?”
Hachiyama gave a small
bow and made his way down the street. The vendor looked after him and took the
coin in his teeth. He winced, and smiled, “Damn, wouldn’t want to be that
little bastard right now. Ain’t as Lucky as he says.”
At the end of the
street was a big red building with steam and smoke pouring out from a thousand
pipes that stuck out the top of the building and made a foul smelling cloud.
Above the double front door was a carved red octopus with blushing cheeks and a
towel on the top of its bulbous head. The girls in front of the club were
wearing red kimonos that were too short for them and giving out free samples
from a tray of little octopus suckers.
Hachiyama pushed his
way past them without a second glance, though he did snatch a hand full of
suckers and stuff them in his mouth as he made his way into the lobby. The
woman behind the desk shouted at him, “Sir, can I help you?”
He looked down at her,
“I am looking for Hideki-kun.”
“Well, we can’t spoil
the privacy of our clients, sir.” She shooing one of the girls to go get their
guards, as she tried to talk to the intimidating mountain of a man, “Perhaps,
you could leave a name or wait for him here? Or maybe you’d like a bath while
you wait?”
Hachiyama looked at her
with his same moronic but determined expression on his face, “What is the most
expensive bath you have?”
She smiled, “Big
spender, huh? Well, we have an assortment of Private Bath Rooms down the hall
to the righ- Hey!” She shouted after Hachiyama as he made his way down the
right hall.
A couple of guards
tried to stop him and he just knocked them down, “Excuse me,” and made his way
to the Private Rooms.
Hachiyama
heard a familiar voice up ahead and barreled right in the door, “Hideki!” He
shouted with a big grin.
Sitting
in the bath was a short but somehow lanky young man who looked to be in his
mid-twenties with a slightly red nose. He had an extraordinarily handsome face
and a very exotic appearance. His short cropped hair was the bright red of a
rose, as were his thick eye brows that hung over a pair of gorgeous eyes; eyes
like topaz. Hanging from his bottom lip was a long thin pipe, no thicker than
his forefinger, with a red end to it and grey smoke billowing out of it into
the steam above the bath. He stared at Hachiyama for a moment and then, with
the pipe between his teeth, gasped, “Hachiyama! What the hell are you doing
here, brother?”
Hachiyama
grinned, “I knew I’d find you here, Hideki-kun. I need your help. My friend was
taken away by the Lord’s men.”
“Alright,
alright, just let me get dressed,” Hideki-kun stood up, “Ladies. Excuse me.”
And it was then that Hachiyama noticed the pair of a gorgeous, and very naked,
women that had been sitting on either side of Hideki and staring up at him in
transfixed horror and confusion. The moment Hachiyama saw the girls; he blushed
and quickly looked at the ground
“Excuse
me.” Hachiyama echoed, awkwardly.
Hideki
lay a hand on his friend’s shoulder with a smile, “C’mon, big brother, let’s
get out of here.” He wore a red vest with golden zigzags running over the color
and down where the buttons would normally be, the vest tied close with golden
strings. He then pulled a red jacket, tying it closed with a golden sash, over
his white trousers and black sandals. He dressed like a circus performer. As he
led Hachiyama down the hall, he apologized for his friend’s rudeness, handed a
gold coin over to the lady at the front desk, and they left.
***
The
Lord looked at Takezou with discerning eyes, glancing down at the blade, and
gesturing to the bushi who was digging his foot into the swordsman’s back.
After a moment, Takezou sat up, and looked up at Lord Tenkinaka, as he spoke,
“Takezou Kuroihi, you are an Initiate of the Black Sun, correct?”
Takezou
nodded, “Yes, my lord.”
“And
you have mastered the style?” The elder advisor, Daisuke asked, sounding
curious, “At such a young age?”
“Yes
and no,” Takezou answered and explained, “I know all four rises and all four
falls of the form, but I have only mastered the rises. I am still training to
master the four falls.”
“Is
it true what they say of the Black Sun Masters?” The elder asked, “Is it true
that a Black Sun Master’s blows become like the rays of the Sun? Unseen and
without end?”
“I
do not know. I have never met a master but,” Takezou looked at the lord’s son
one last time and then back the Lord, “But a master can cut down ten men in a
single stroke.”
Genereal
Mamore snorted, “Nonsense! If this was so, you would not have allowed yourself
to be captured.”
“As
I said, I am not a master, “Takezou replied, “Yet. Now, why do you wish to know
more of my style?” He asked.
The
Lord looked at the man who cut down his son and took a deep breath, “Do you
believe the style is something that you could teach someone else?”
“Yes
and no,” Takezou repeated his earlier reply, “I believe I could teach the style
but only to a student of the right spirit. The style takes nearly relentless
practice but even that is not enough. A student of the Black Sun School’s body
and mind must be just so for the style.”
“Could
you teach the style to my youngest son, Tomi?” The Lord asked.
“I
would need to meet him first,” Takezou nodded, “But perhaps.” The Lord gestured
to the guards and they undid the bindings on his wrists and let him stand. The
Lord gestured again and two guards left the room.
“If
my son were to master this style, he would be a worthy heir and,” He looked at
Takezou, “You will become a rich and powerful man.”
****
Hachiyama
and Hideki made it to the palace gates in short time, Hachiyama explaining the
situation along the way, and Hideki tell him that he would do all he could to
help out Hachiyama’s friend. When they reached the front gates of the palace,
Hideki stopped in front of one of the guards, “Have they taken a man inside? A
swordsman?”
The
guard looked down at the little man, “Yes. He killed the Lord’s son. They’ll
probably execute him.”
Hachiyama
shook his head, “The Lord’s son attacked him.” Hideki tried to hold Hachiyama
back but, within a moment, the giant was looming over the bushi, Hachiyama’s
golden eyes filled with dangerous intent, and growled “If they execute him I
will tear down these walls with my hands!”
Hideki
laughed nervously, “Calm down, Hachiyama,” He gulped, “They haven’t done
anything yet!”
The
bushi stared up at the huge man, and looked over at the other guards, who began
to walk over, holding their spears. Things were about to turn ugly when a
moment later the gates opened and the Lord, as well as his advisors, walked
outside. The bushi turned and relaxed their postures, as the elder advisor,
Daisuke asked, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Nothing,
Daisuke-sama!” The bushi almost all said in unison, trying to explain, but Hachiyama
let out a triumphant cry as he saw Takezou walk out and walked over to them.
Without a word, he grabbed Hachiyama’s arm and led him away from the palace.
As
they walked, Hachiyama asked, “What happened?”
Takezou
smiled, “I was given the opportunity to become as rich and powerful as a
warlord just for performing a single task.” He explained the Lord’s request.
“What
went wrong?” Hideki asked, curiously.
“Well,
the Lord’s son was not born for the Black Sun style,” He explained, “I had to
tell the Lord that I could try to teach the boy the style but he would never be
able to master it.”
“You
could have lied and taught him, anyway,” Hideki explained, “You could have befriended
the Lord’s son and protected him. He would think he was a master and they would
be none the wiser.”
“No,”
Takezou explained, “That would’ve been a risk not worth taking. The son might’ve
becoming like his older brother and challenged some true master to a duel.
Then, he’d be cut down and the Lord would blame me.”
The
three walked down a ways, Hachiyama and Takezou telling Hideki what had
happened to them in the village, and after a while, it became clear that Hideki
enjoyed their company. He was a rather lighthearted and fancy free fellow,
quick to joke, and if he offended anyone, he seemed to brush it off quickly
enough. Before they made it back to the Red Octopus, Hachiyama asked, “Hideki-kun,
how did you get rich enough to afford the most expensive bath in town?”
“Oh,
that? I won it all gambling; Poker, Ball Games, Cricket Fights, Turtle Races
and pachinko. ” Hideki chuckled, “They
don’t call me the Lucky Rabbit for nothing.”
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